


beat the darkness

by turnyourankle



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha Louis Tomlinson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - World War I, Egypt, M/M, Nurse Harry Styles, Omega Harry Styles, Soldier Louis Tomlinson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-06-28 05:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19806019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnyourankle/pseuds/turnyourankle
Summary: Harry is a volunteer nurse stationed in Cairo; Louis is one of the patients in his ward.





	beat the darkness

**Author's Note:**

> this might be a bit niche, but once the idea came i had to write it down. i did so much reading and research but i suspect there's still plenty i got wrong so apologies for historical inaccuracies. thank you muchly to M for looking this over for me!
> 
> i have fodder and ideas for a second part, so let me know if you'd like to read more from this 'verse!

  
_there are ways out._  
_there is light somewhere._  
_it may not be much light but_  
_it beats the darkness._  


Port Said loomed on the horizon, Harry’s throat going dry as the building on the horizon came into focus. Their journey from England had felt long and slow, but now it was as if the ship was increasing speeds, ready to crash into port.

Of course that wasn’t going to happen. It was time for Harry to go back below deck, pack up his things, and get ready to disembark with the others, but he felt rooted to his spot on the ship. He’d been revising his notes and books throughout the journey; trying to make sure his training stuck, and now that their arrival was imminent his head had gone blank.

Maybe it was just seasickness catching up with him. He’d been told that omegas were particularly susceptible to such illnesses, just another reason why they weren’t fit for active service. He hadn’t believed it, thought of it as a paltry excuse, but maybe it was true after all.

“It’s just nerves,” Edgar told him when Harry relayed his fears. “I feel it too,” Edgar continued as he clutched his stomach. His face scrunched up, but there was excitement there rather than fear. 

They’d changed into their nurses uniforms for disembarkment. They’d been advised to do so. Even though they were all part of the voluntary aid detachment, they were still representatives of Queen Alexandra’s Military Service and their country as soon as they’d signed their papers. 

That, and it was good for their safety to be easily identifiable as English nurses. It made Harry uncomfortable to think about, but it’s what they’d been told. 

Harry’s uniform was still stiff and suffocating, nearly unbearable in the living heat they’d been spit out into. But he could handle it. He’d chosen to serve, to do what he could.

Harry wiped at his forehead, sweat beading along his temple. He wasn’t the only one suffering, judging from Agatha’s flushed face. She’d undone the top button of her blouse, fanning herself with a folded up map of Cairo. 

“We’ll get used to it,” Agatha said with false bravado. Her smile as stiff as the fabric of her veil. 

At least Harry didn’t have to wear one of those. He hadn’t been pleased with having to cut his hair to enlist, but at the present time it felt like a small sacrifice. He wouldn’t want the added weight of that fabric on his head, and despite his hair curling just below his ears it felt heavy with heat. Sweat dripped along the back of his neck and his collar chafed. But it could be worse.

It wasn’t just the wall of heat that welcomed them in port; it was also the sound of foreign and familiar languages filling the air. Harry recognized snippets of French and something that sounded similar to it. It was overwhelming, and Harry was grateful that they were being ushered as a group to their next destination.

Thus far in Harry’s journey nothing had been as expected, which meant he shouldn’t have been surprised that the hospital didn’t look like any other hospital Harry had ever been to. There were palm trees lining the avenue leading to the spectacular building, the only indication that it was a medical facility were the ambulances parked out front and the military tents covering the lawns. 

Edgar whistled at the sight, and Harry felt less badly about his wide eyed wonder. 

“This used to be a hotel, the Heliopolis Palace,” Agatha said, ever the showoff, bumping their elbows with smug delight. She’d been dropping tidbits throughout the voyage, things she’d been told by her brother who was a surgeon and had been in the service for a year already. 

Her reveal set off a peal of whispers, questions about their rooms, about who might’ve stayed at the hotel before if was turned into a hospital. 

Harry didn’t get involved in the speculation, it felt like a pointless distraction when things were already so different from what Harry had expected when he volunteered. Their training had been specific to field nursing, to the chaos and danger they’d have to face at base hospitals. And here they were, in a remodeled luxury hotel. It felt like they were so far away from the battlefields that they may not even be needed.

Of course, that was a nonsense thought, and one that Harry reprimanded himself for when they stepped into the building. 

There may have been extravagant chandeliers hanging from elaborately painted ceilings, but it was obvious that the space was being used as a hospital. From the strong smell of disinfectant and bleach that permeated the air and the rows of occupied cots in every room they passed, the building’s purpose was clear. It had been commandeered effectively into a hospital.

“New arrivals?” a nurse carrying overfilled pails stopped to ask them. They looked heavy, but even with a flush high on her cheeks she looked very well put together, her uniform impeccable. Her stripes revealed her standing as head nurse, and the group of volunteers remained still. 

Agatha, keen and unafraid to stand out from the group, said, “Yes, nurse, we’ve just arrived from port. Agatha Baker, here to serve!” She extended her hand as if expecting a handshake from her superior.

It wasn’t reciprocated, the head nurse securing her grip on the pails. The smell of copper was filling the air. Blood, Harry knew it was, and he tried not to grimace.

“Well, I’m Nurse Westchester. You’ll want to drop your belongings off in your quarters on the third floor. Someone will be waiting for you there to assign your duties.” Westchester spoke with authority and confidence, and it gave Harry a small thrill. Things were different here. Omegas had authority. 

“Yes, ma’am, thank you,” Agatha said, her spirits still high even though her handshake had been rebuffed. 

“It’s _Nurse_ or _Officer_ , not ma’am,” Westchester corrected with a forced smile.  
Before walking away, she turned to Agatha, said, “Actually, why don’t you come with me, nurse Agatha? I could use a second set of hands with this.” 

Agatha had no choice but to go with Westchester, and she pawned off her suitcase to Harry. He mouthed, _Good luck,_ at her as she ran after their matron. 

“And this is why you shouldn’t try to stand out,” Edgar whispered. He shook his head, but Harry could sense the schadenfreude in his tone. 

He didn’t realize how right Edgar was until later, when Harry was put on the night shift because he always stood out in a group of alphas with his broad shoulders and deep voice.

Their volunteer co-ordinator was nurse Corden, a plump beta with a syrupy smile, introduced himself after they settled in. He took one look at Harry’s height and shoulders and decided he should be out of sight lest he frighten the fragile alphas.

That’s not what he said, of course. But Harry could read between the lines. He saw the way Corden’s eyes narrowed when he took in Harry’s appearance. He’d seen that look enough times that he knew what it meant: he was a sorry excuse for an omega, even in this position.

What Corden did was welcome them by rehashing the spiel about how omegas were ideal for wartime nursing. It was natural for alphas to be tended by omegas and it would help them recover faster. Especially when it came to young injured alphas, just being in the presence of omega pheromones could assist their healing. 

“We have a motto at the Military Royal Army Medical Corps, are you familiar with it?”

They all did, but again no one wanted to repeat Agatha’s mistake by being overeager.

So Corden continued, emphasizing each word he spoke, “Treat people with kindness.” That’s when he took them all in, making eye contact with each of them individually. There was no kindness in his eyes when he looked at Harry. 

He started divvying up duties, sending one person to the surgery theatre and another triage. He flipped through his papers absentmindedly, said, “Harry Styles, you will do well with night shifts, yes.” He closed his notebook with a flourish, a saccharine, insincere smile.

Edgar pressed his elbow against Harry’s, silent solidarity. He could’ve done more, could’ve suggested that Harry’s presence would be appreciated in the surgical theatre which was where Edgar had been assigned. 

But that would require speaking up and standing out, which was the opposite of what Edgar wanted to do. 

Harry frowned, but he couldn’t protest outright, instead he asked, “Am I just off ‘til then? Since it’s not night now.”

He’d caught Corden by surprise; trying to remain still but blinking furiously. 

Harry continued, “I’ve been told I’m very good at bandaging, maybe someone needs their dressings changed?” He just couldn’t stop talking. He’d been judged already as a someone to hide away, and he couldn’t stop talking.

Corden’s expression soured further, mouth puckering unattractively. He’d flipped his notepad open again, pen hovering over the pages. 

“You know, Mr Styles, our wounded soldiers heal better with positive omega energy around them. Not someone with a bratty attitude who challenges them. This is a place of healing and kindness.”

“Yes, nurse.” Harry stepped back into the line and bowed his head, hoping this display of submission would be enough to cut him slack for now. Nevermind that he wouldn’t be anywhere near any wounded soldiers today. It was best to go along with what he was told.

+

Night duty didn’t spare Harry from hard work, which he realized quickly. There was an ambulance train scheduled at the start of his shift, and he and the other night nurses were driven out to the station to greet the patients and assess them before they were moved to hospital.

That, and, they had to carry the stretchers. 

Harry’s strength was to his advantage, and Harry got into a fairly good routine. Asses the patient in his cot and then carry him out to the ambulance waggon if all was well. There were forty wounded alphas to go through, and Harry tried to remember all of their names, repeating them to himself as he helped carry each man into a waiting waggon.

Thomas. Johnathan. Alfred. Leslie. Hugh. Archie.

They, and many others, were part of Harry’s responsibility now. They might’ve been just numbers in the trenches, but they wouldn’t be to him, not now. 

Harry’s shoulders were sore by the time the last man had been loaded into a waggon, but his work was far from over.

He’d hoped for a spare moment to wipe the sweat off his face, but there was no time for that when each nurse on duty was responsible for an entire ward and there were no orderlies to give them a hand. They had triaged the patients upon arrival and determined which ward they would be placed in. Harry was responsible for the twenty patients in Ward 9, which had three new arrivals. Thomas, Leslie and Louis. 

Aside from helping each new patient to settle in with fresh bedpans, linens and everything else they might need, Harry had to check in with each of them and make sure they were alright.

He started with Thomas because he’d observed an abdominal wound when transferring him to the ambulance waggon. It would need to be cleansed, so he thought it best to get that out of the way first. Harry had a pan and a fresh batch of Dakin’s solution to disinfect the wound with.

Thiomas jerked aside when Harry removed the wound dressings. He shouldn’t have had such a reaction at this point, but maybe he was sensitive after his long journey. 

Harry was trying to concentrate as he poured out some of the fluid on the wound, but he was distracted by a loud cough that echoed through the room.

Thomas whined loudly when Harry pressed against the wound. Harry could use some more light, but he wanted to get this over with quickly, so Thomas wouldn’t suffer. 

The cough got louder, and Harry grit his teeth, clenching around the sponge he was using. Maybe he should take care of that before the whole ward woke up from the bloke coughing his lungs out. 

Harry wiped his hands clean on his apron before getting up. Following the sound of the cough led Harry to one of the new arrivals: Louis Tomlinson, Harry remembered. He was laying on his side, curled inward, as if trying to conceal his cough.

Harry touched his shoulder, and waited for him to turn around. “Hello, I’m Nurse Harry, would you like some water for your throat?” Harry asked as he introduced himself. 

Louis nodded, and Harry returned to the tea trolley to pours up a glass of water for him. 

“Can you hold it on your own?” Harry asked and Louis nodded, taking the glass gingerly.

“Thank you,” he said. His hands were steady enough that he could sip the lukewarm water. 

Harry watched his throat bob with interest. “Feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you,” Louis said, his voice less rough now. 

“I’ll be back when I’m done with Thomas.”

“He normally doesn’t get so bothered with redressing,” Louis said, punctuating it with a cough. He pressed his fist against his chest. “I’ll be fine,” Louis said, waving Harry away. He sat up on his bed now, eyes following Harry as he returned to Thomas’ bedside.

“Thomas? Are you alright?”

Thomas didn’t answer, his chest heaving. Harry pressed the back of his hand against Thomas’ forehead. He wasn’t doing well. “I’m going to get the surgeon for you, alright?”

The surgeon had to be woken up, his expression serious and dissatisfied when he rolled out of bed. But he determined that Thomas needed to be looked at immediately and sent for his assistants to be awakened so they could prep the theatre for them. 

Despite the quick turn of events, Harry’s head remained foggy. He took a risk by escalating to the surgeon, but he’d been right. He was still on edge, the adrenaline pooling in his belly with nowhere to go. 

And still, he had duties left. He returned to Louis’ bedside. He’d finished his glass of water but remained up and alert. Unsurprising, considering the commotion that had been involved with removing Thomas from the ward.

Harry’s head ached, his skull feeling hollowed out from the stress, but he put on a bright front. “Would you like to be cleaned up? Or would you like more to drink?”

Louis shook his head. “I think I’d rather just go back to sleep.”

“Of course.”

“That’s not something you can help with, is it?” He wrinkled his nose. Harry frowned, and Louis elaborated, “A finger of scotch, perhaps?”

“No. I don’t think so but. Uh, I can--” Harry looked around the ward, for any emergencies he might need to attend. “It’s not busy so I can keep you company. I think the uh-- pheromones are supposed to help with tranquility.” He was just rehashing what his books said, but it was awkward, suggesting that his mere presence would be helpful, even though it was medically sound. 

“You’re not like the other nurses, are you?” Louis said, and Harry bristled reflexively, jaw going tight. He curled his fingers into a fist, nails digging into the palm of his hand.

“I’m perfectly qualified to be here.” Harry kept his voice low, not wanting to wake anyone else up. 

“I don’t doubt that at all,” Louis said, blinking, as if caught off guard with Harry’s reaction. He opened his mouth and closed it again, changing his mind about what he was going to say. Eventually, he asked, “Will Thomas be alright?”

“They’re doing what they can.”

“Right.” Louis shuffled lower into the bed, pulling his sheets over his shoulders. A shiver passed over him. “Some water would be great, in case I get another coughing fit.”

“Coming right up.” Harry smoothed the front of his uniform and picked up Louis’ glass. He didn’t offer to sit near Louis again. He could do his job and bring him water, but it was bad enough that their superintendent thought he was different enough he needed to be relegated to nights. He didn’t want -- nor did he ever expect -- that a patient might point out his differences as well.

+

Thomas’ bed was still empty the next night, but he’d made it through. He’d been relocated to a smaller ward with more experienced nurses for the time being, something that had come as a relief to Harry.

“I heard you saved his life,” Agatha told him, her voice vibrating with excitement. After a day in the sluice room she’d been put on nights as well. It was nice to see a familiar face, even though they could only speak in stolen moments, as she had a ward of her own to look after. 

Her words should’ve made Harry proud, but he couldn’t absorb the praise. “Anyone dressing the wound would’ve noticed,” he said, looking around him to make sure no one was listening in. _Should_ notice was more accurate. And the truth was Harry didn’t feel responsible for saving Thomas because he almost hadn't. He’d almost brushed aside Thomas’ reactions as normal. But anyone else with more experience, someone who hadn’t been left on their own for their first shift might have realized immediately that Thomas needed a doctor. Someone else might not have hesitated to wake up the surgeon. 

He couldn’t share any of that with Agatha. He was pleased to see her, but he knew her penchant for gossip. He wasn’t pleased that she would be telling people this version of the story, with Harry painted as the hero, but it could be worse.

They were both filling up their supper trolleys for their respective wards. They were serving fish and potato pie, along with flatbreads that were popular considering the hard biscuits that were served on the frontlines. 

Louis was scribbling furiously where he sat in bed, and Harry let him focus, moving on to offer supper to the other patients first. His eye still caught on Louis' form, from time to time, registering the sharpness of his cheekbones and the prominence of his collarbones.

From where Harry stood, Louis wasn't exactly the poster image of the alpha going to war. Perhaps Louis didn't mean anything by his comment after all. 

He took a deep breath before approaching Louis with the trolley. "Fish and potato pie?"

Louis looked up at him, fringe nearly falling into his eyes. Harry kept his mouth in a tight smile.

"Sure," Louis said, closing his notebook, pen between the pages as a bookmark. 

Harry prepared the meal tray .

"Thomas is doing well," Harry said, unprompted, when he really should've turned around to put the trolley back in place. But his fingers were twisting around the handles, aching to speak a bit more to Louis.

"Yeah, yeah, the daytime nurse told me."

"Right."

"All thanks to you, yeah?" Louis brought his fork to his mouth, chewing and watching Harry in a way that made his skin prickle. He didn't have a response, but once Louis swallowed he continued, "You handled it well."

"Thanks," Harry said, his chest feeling warm. He cleared his throat, intentionally looking away from Louis. He'd been warned about getting attached to Alphas while in service, but he didn't expect it to hit so suddenly. 

The best way to handle it was to keep his distance for now. "I'll leave you to your meal," he said, backing away with the trolley in tow.

+

Harry had heard about the speeches that were made when soldiers departed, whether it be to return home due to injury or back to the front. But this time a few of the men in his ward were being discharged and sent back to England, and he felt it his duty to be there for their send off.

The Colonel announced himself with a fanfare, greeting the ward with exaggerated projection. It was a fairly standard speech; thanking the men for their service, assuring them their sacrifices were worth it and served the country. 

Harry studied the faces of his patients, trying to see if the speech had inspired them. It didn’t appear that way, most of them blank-faced and jaws tight. 

The colonel finished with a snarl, saying, “Those of you returning to Blighty tomorrow. It is your duty to tell all the men you see that they have no right to call themselves alphas at all.” He paused, as if he expected there to be a rallying cry and whistling egging him on.

But there was no sense of victory in the room, no glory.

Harry’s eyes sought out Louis’ form, and he noticed his head was bent low, his mouth tight. Harry kept watching Louis as he approached. Their ward was busy; orderlies helping the departing patients, and fluttering about packed suitcases. 

“Did that make you homesick? I can get you some fancy letter paper if you’d like to write home.” Harry’s mouth tugged to the side, his shoulders still tight. Louis looked up at him with hooded eyes and shook his head.

“‘M not sure the home I’d be sick for even exists anymore,” Louis said, melancholy. He folded his knees and pulled them tight towards his chest, a protective position. He must’ve gotten used to doing that in the trenches, Harry thought, his insides squirming. 

Harry pulled one of the stools closer to Louis’ bed, just a smidge closer than would normally be appropriate, but it felt necessary. The closer he sat the more effective his presence would be.

Louis took a deep breath, and Harry had to control himself not to look at Louis’ face as he breathed. The back of Harry’s neck prickled with every inhale, but he kept his eyes trained on his own hands.

He only looked up when Louis started speaking, his voice low and monotonous, reciting from memory. “Alphas should go to war not only to defend our country, but defend the omegas whom we are responsible for. It is time to prove ourselves deserving of the faith that has been placed in us.”

Harry frowned until it clicked, where he knew this from. “The Churchill speech.”

Louis nodded, his mouth still tight. “Heard it a lot. Never heard what was supposed to happen after. It’s like we were supposed to walk off into the night and return only as legends, not as…” Louis trailed off, and he slapped the thigh of his injured leg.

“You don’t look forward to going home?” Harry asked.

Louis shook his head, his mouth twisting into a smile. “They won’t be sending me home, Harry. I’m not injured enough for that. They won’t let you go back until you’re broken beyond repair.”

“Oh,” Harry said on an exhale, unable to think of what to say. He hadn’t considered that. As far as physical injuries went, Louis’ weren’t that bad. His splint was going to come off today, and with proper exercise he should be able to walk without a limp. Harry hadn’t realized this meant he’d be considered fit enough to go back to battle rather than sent back home to fully recuperate. 

“What kind of person would put up with this type of damage?” Louis said, low enough that he might’ve been talking to himself, about himself.

But Harry had heard him, and he wasn’t going to ignore it. “Someone who’s been there,” Harry said, his voice cracking. He was already sat a bit close for propriety but he couldn’t help it: he reached for Louis’ hand. It was instinctual, but the jolt he felt when their skin touched made him want to jerk away, pull back and go back to normal. 

But if he jerked his hand away it would give him away. Instead he squeezed Louis’ hand harder, and they remained sat together for a moment longer.

+

Harry’s leave came six weeks into his service; earlier than for some, as Edgar pointed out, whose leave wasn’t due for another four weeks, but Harry was having a hard time embracing it nonetheless.

He’d only just gotten used to his reversed sleeping schedule, and now he was expected to reverse his schedule again just to enjoy a few days off. Days that he had no plans for. He could go join one of the sports teams, but that required weekly commitments that his schedule didn’t support. He could visit the library, but if he was going to make a stop there he might as well pick up books for Louis, too.

That was the excuse he gave himself as he headed down to ward 9, which looked like a completely different place in daylight. The drapes were open and the sun shone starkly into the room, leaving him squinting. 

But he still noticed immediately that Louis’ cot was empty. 

If patients were mobile they could move about the hospital, so his absence wasn’t necessarily alarming, but the nurse on duty’s absentminded response about Louis’ whereabouts gave Harry pause. 

He walked over to Louis’ bed, just to take a closer look at it. There was a book next to it, which Harry picked up. It was one of Louis’ notebooks. Harry kept it closed but pressed it against his chest.

He also touched Louis’ bed. It was cold. And it had been made, which felt incredibly out of character for him.

Harry didn’t want to kick up a fuss, especially not when things could be fine and alerting authorities might put Louis in trouble but-- but he couldn’t not go looking for him. 

Louis was an alpha in the army; he could take care of himself. But there was something gnawing at Harry, still. Everything might be fine on paper, with Louis soon to be cleared for active duty and healing nicely, but Harry knew better than that, now. He knew Louis spirit was broken, and his impending departure wasn’t helping.

So yeah, Harry worried. There was also the fact that Louis wasn’t familiar with Egypt. He might have been at the base hospital for several weeks now, but he’d never been outside the hospital grounds as far as Harry knew.

He wouldn't be nearby: his Arabic and French wasn't good enough to stay in the closest villages. But farther into the city there would be hotels where Louis could blend in with the other Englishmen, Canadians and Australians.

So that's where Harry went looking.

He checked a few of the bazaars at first. The places it was easy to gravitate towards when you were new in the heart of the city. He was left alone, his nurse’s uniform likely earning him some respect from the crowd, despite clocking him as an omega. 

There was no Louis to be found where he looked. His second option was to check the hotels.

Harry stopped by the Bristol Hotel first, a place he’d never been but heard many stories about. The other volunteer nurses had been repeatedly, it was a great place to meet eligible alphas and have fun. 

Looking out onto the crowd of young alphas currently at the bar, it’s all he could think of that these men and women were going to be changed. They wouldn’t all make it back, and even those who did would suffer. They wouldn't return home until they were broken. The glitz and glamour was just a facade, something to make the cruelty of battle more palatable. 

“Hiya, nurse,” a young alpha greeted Harry and tipped his hat. “Care for a drink? I seem to have lost my companions.” He nodded towards the dance floor where his friends were presumably dancing with their own conquests.

Not too long ago Harry would’ve been flattered, any other time and he might indulge in some harmless flirting to give the bloke something fond to look back on while he was in the front but--

But not right now. He was on a mission. Harry’s throat felt thick, his tongue dry as he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m expected somewhere,” was the most Harry could say before excusing himself.

He wasn’t going to give up his search for Louis just yet, there were plenty of English hotels left to search, and Harry had time to visit them all.

He didn’t have to though, luckily, finding Louis at his third stop, Shepheard’s Hotel. They had their own version of glitz and pomp, the long bar crowded as always. There were so many alphas in one place the smell was overwhelming, and Harry didn’t want to step into the bar. He screwed his eyes shut, knowing he had to continue, but he needed a break.

He retraced his steps and returned to the lobby of the hotel, where plush sofas and divans were available. He could recompose himself there before continuing his search.

But that’s where Louis was. 

In the light of the lobby Louis looked like anyone else, his complexion looking healthy and his crutch easily confused for a cane. But Harry recognized him instantly.

“Louis!”

Louis’ face fell when he spotted Harry, but he also didn’t look entirely surprised. Was that a good sign? Or was Harry perceived as such a clinger that Louis knew he’d come looking for him?

“Can I join you?” Harry asked, and Louis bit his lip. “We could have lunch perhaps? I’m finding myself a bit exhausted from the heat.” 

Louis’ eyes narrowed, his doubt evident, but his shoulders relaxed a tiny bit. He didn’t reject Harry outright. He stood up, and Harry felt the ghost of a touch on his back as Louis directed him to the side. 

Aside from the long bar, Shepheard’s also had a cafe and that’s where Louis lead them. He was walking slowly, taking care to use his crutch properly to support his injured leg now that his splint was off, and that small thing gave Harry some comfort. At least Louis was still taking care of himself and his jaunt into town wasn’t some sort of suicide mission. 

Harry still couldn’t separate his feelings towards Louis properly. He admired him, and found him charming and he just-- he cared. He couldn’t leave Louis alone in Cairo, he wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened to him.

Nurses had been warned that the proximity with patients might confuse them. Pheromones and scents flying about might have such side effects but Harry didn’t think that was it. 

They were seated at a table by the windows, allowing them the distraction of looking outside instead of talking to each other. Louis ordered tea and coffee and three appetizers for them to share. Harry wasn’t actually hungry, but he could do with some tea. Anything to stall their separation. 

They were waiting for their tea and coffee to cool down when Louis spoke. “I was having nightmares about the sandbags.” He stared out the window, his finger crooked through the handle of his cup. “They had to be constantly refilled, you know? You had to stand up, right in the line of fire and stack sandbags on top of each other.”

Harry frowned, his lips tightly pursed.

“I just wanted to remind myself it was safe to be outside.” 

“Bad things can happen everywhere,” Harry protested, his frown deepening. Perhaps Louis wasn’t so concerned with his safety and wellbeing after all. “Especially if you’re not fully healed yet.”

“Nearly there, though,” Louis said, with less satisfaction than Harry expected. Louis’ injuries had been relatively mild. He’d been sent to the hospital for his broken leg as they had an expert orthopedic surgeon on staff. He was convalescing now, but that didn’t mean he might not re-injure himself.

Their conversation was interrupted when the server returned with their plates. There were cakes and whipped cream, and Harry’s stomach growled. He hadn’t planned on eating, but this was far more tempting than the food they were served at the hospital.

Louis pushed a few of the plates closer to Harry, inviting him to indulge, and Harry obliged. He picked up a scone and covered it in cream, his mouth watering at the sight. It was just as good as it looked, and he closed his eyes as he chewed on it.

When Harry opened his eyes Louis was staring at him, and Harry flushed. He couldn’t allow himself to be distracting from his mission of bringing Louis back.

Harry picked up another scone, trying to act casual as he asked, “Were you planning on going back tonight?” 

“I wasn’t planning on coming back for a while, actually,” Louis said, and it was casual without pretense. 

"What's a while?"

Louis shrugged, and it was so matter-of-fact that Harry’s insides grew hot. He knew what that meant; Was it that simple for Louis? He wanted to reason him out of it. 

“You wouldn’t be able to come back at all, then.” Harry had leaned in closer to Louis, closer than appropriate, probably, but he needed Louis to understand the gravity of what he was proposing. “You’d be a deserter. The only reason no one has sounded an alarm yet is because you’re ill. We can say you went insane, briefly.”

“I might be able to when this is all over.” Louis shrugged.

“And until then? Where would you live?” Harry asked. It might be a very long time until the war was over. They’d been saying it wouldn’t last the year for the past two, and here they were. Louis couldn’t pull this off, and he needed to know that.

“I’m sure I could get a flat somewhere. I speak decent French,” 

“And pay them with what? You’re not going to get any of your military earnings, you do know that.”

Louis chuckled, even as he braced himself, breathing going ragged. “You really are something else.”

Harry flushed, and he had to fight not to duck his head. Instead he lowered his gaze. He felt hot for an entirely different reason. But he couldn’t let Louis distract him.

“Why don’t you bond someone?” The thought popped into Harry's head and the words just fell out of his mouth. There was no way to take them back now, even though Louis’ expression made Harry want to. “That way they’d have to send you home, no questions and no judgment, at least for a while. And by then we could think of something else.”

Louis face was wide and open as he blinked at Harry. “Harry--” He shook his head, a frown apparent, even under his fringe. “I don’t have anyone, Harry. It’s not that simple.”

“You have me,” Harry said, somehow not wavering. It would be a solution for Harry, too. He was disillusioned already with how limited the scope of help was. Was it really for the best to patch alphas up just so they could go back to fight? How much were they expected to take? And Louis was a good man, a gentle alpha. It didn’t feel like it would be that much of a risk to bond him.

Louis’ lips were parted but his face was still serious, a firm line etched between his brows. Harry hadn’t considered the risk of being rejected.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “That was presumptuous of me, but I was just. I just want to help.” He carefully wiped his mouth clean, feeling the need to make sure he was put together, the opposite of his roiling insides. “It would explain why we were gone for so long, too."

“No, Harry, I--” Louis took hold of Harry’s hands. “Forget about my problems, alright? Think of yourself, you deserve better than some war damaged alpha.”

Harry’s brows shot up, disbelieving that Louis would talk himself down like that. “I can think of much worse.” He’d met much worse, he’d dated much worse.

“I would want it to work, not just-- I don’t want to bond just for show. That’s not who I am.” Louis entwined his fingers with Harry’s. Harry’s heart stuttered in his chest. This felt like a counteroffer, one that Harry took very seriously.

“I understand,” Harry said, the most honest words he’d said in a long time. He squeezed Louis’ hand, making his intent clear. Louis’ breath caught and he took a sip of his coffee. 

“I’ll think about it.”

+

As Harry refused to return to the hospital without Louis, he’d have to stay the night with him at the hotel. Louis was surprisingly easy to convince, which suggested he would cave to Harry’s offer to bondeventually.

The room Louis had gotten was on the smaller side, smaller than the room Harry shared with his fellow nurses at the hospital, but at least the space was theirs, only theirs. 

“Well,” Louis started, stepping into the room and dropping his crutch at the side of the bed. “I would offer to get undressed in the loo but it’s nothing you’ve not seen before, is it?” 

Harry bit his lip, nodding, because he didn’t trust his voice. He’d seen Louis--and plenty of other alphas--naked in these past few weeks.

But this felt different. Even though Louis kept his undershirt and pants on, this felt more vulnerable to Harry. He’d have to strip down too.

“You can change in the loo, Harry, I won’t be offended,” Louis said, mistaking Harry’s reluctance to step farther inside for him feeling insecure.

“It’s not--” Harry shook his head, trying to make sense of his own thoughts. He wanted to go to bed with Louis. In more ways than they were currently planning on. It wasn’t an entirely foreign thought to Harry, strictly speaking. Of course he’d met alphas he wanted to spend a night with, but it had always been an abstract possibility before.

This time it felt like an opportunity. The kind that made your chest crawl with nerves and throat close up at the possibility that things might go tits up.

Harry had to _just_ \--

He dropped his satchel to the floor and started to unbutton his shirt. Louis blinked at him in silence. Harry should say something, shouldn’t he? It wasn’t seductive otherwise. Otherwise who knew what this looked like, a tall Omega clumsily undoing his buttons.

“You don’t have to--” Louis started, but then blinked at the bed and the space around it

“I want to,” Harry said, at last. He’d expected the words to struggle on the way out, for his throat to clench, but there they were. When given the opportunity to answer a direct question he knew what to say. 

“Okay,” Louis said, as if he were out of words. He blinked rapidly, unsure of where to look.

“Ask me something else,” Harry said, his final button undone and he shrugged out of his shirt. IT landed on the floor in a heap. It would wrinkle, but that was a problem for later. 

He started undoing his belt, and this time Louis’ eyes darted to the movement nearly immediately. Harry bit his lip, the acid in his gut had dissolved, replaced with the heat of anticipation. 

“Okay. Okay…” Louis kept repeating, as if trying to grasp the meaning of the word. As if unable to think of anything else. But it didn’t matter, not really just the sound of Louis’ voice was making Harry’s insides riot.

“Ask me.” 

This time Louis’ eyes snapped to Harry’s face, and they looked at each other for a moment. Harry forgot himself for a second, only focused on how dark Louis’ eyes were, how flush his cheeks were. He was irresistible. 

Louis broke the spell by asking, “Are you tired?” 

“No.” Harry blinked slowly, rolling his lips inward. He let his trousers fall to the floor. There was no way that Louis’ couldn’t smell Harry’s excitement by now. He should be scared, should be worried about what it might all mean. Whether he’d be a mated omega come morning, his life completely changed. His breath should rattle, his fingers tremble. But none of that was happening.

“Are you cold?” Louis asked, no doubt because Harry allowed a full body shiver to pass through him as he inhaled. Louis could smell him, but Harry could smell Louis, too, and it was overwhelming. 

“No,” Harry said, taking a few more gulps of air. Trousers off and he stepped towards the bed, dropping to his knees on it. “‘M hot.”

“Okay,” Louis said, pulling at the sheets. He pushed them off the bed entirely, as if they were deeply offensive and removing them would solve Harry’s problem. “Is this better?” Louis asked.

Harry looked at the bed, looked at Louis. He was overwhelmed with care for him, his lungs felt tight. It was such a small thing but it felt massive.

“Yes,” Harry said, inching his way closer to Louis. He wasn’t going to stop until he was right up in Louis’ space but he didn’t have the chance, getting interrupted by another question.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Harry said on an exhale, out of breath. 

Louis gripped his jaw then, and they kissed. Harry had been kissed before, but not like this. Not like they both wanted this is in equal measures. His lungs were burning, only feeling relief when he felt Louis’ hands on him. They were grounding, his palms along Harry’s shoulders. The shoulders Corden had sneered at as unattractive for an omega.

Here Louis was, each touch a brand of approval. Harry gave in and reached for Louis as well, arms circling his waist. This way they were even closer.

It felt less frantic, suddenly, and Harry sighed into Louis’ mouth. A content, happy moan as Louis’ tongue pressed against the seam of his lips. He let Louis in, and he didn’t regret it one bit. 

“Have I told you I love your hair?” Louis asked, his fingers gripping the loose strands. He tugged at them softly, enough to make Harry catch his breath.

His eyes fluttered closed, out of breath he was and still, he said, “It’s not regulation.”

“And yet you get away with it,” Louis said, and he followed it by an unexpected tickle attack. 

“Traitor!” Harry shouted as he doubled over trying to protect his underarms. “And no sheets to protect me!”

Louis laughed, a loud warm sound that filled Harry up and inclined him to forgive all.

“Sorry,” Louis said, a smirk clear on his face. 

“That wasn’t very nice,” Harry teased. He reached for Louis’ face, his finger trailing along his lips. Those intoxicating lips. 

Louis’s lips parted in an invitation and obliging, Harry kissed him. 

There was a sound coming from the back of Louis’ throat, something sharp and possessive and it made Harry’s insides tremble. He felt entirely outside of himself and they were still in their underwear.

Harry’s fingers sought out the edge of Louis’ hips, he felt bold, even as his heart was beating double time. He knew Louis was hard in his pants, but was he brave enough to make that first move just yet? Harry’s thumbs skimmed Louis’ overheated skin. 

Louis’ hips bucked closer, his groin now pressed against Harry’s. The fabric of their pants were still separating them, but Harry couldn’t imagine feeling hotter than this. He could even feel the swelling of Louis’ knot if he pressed himself _just so_ against him.

It felt like an electric shock, the current between them growing stronger. 

“Wait, wait,” Louis said, pulling away with a heaving chest. His chest was flush all the way to his neck, and he licked his lips before adjusting himself. He laid down on the bed, on his side, making sure there was no weight on his injured leg. 

Harry breath caught at the thought that he might’ve strained himself, just from tonight. “Is your leg alright?”

“Yeah, I just think-- I just don’t want to get carried away. Not yet.”

Harry nodded along, his disagreement plain on his face. Louis smirked in response to Harry’s displeased expression. “Come,” he said, gesting to Harry to lay down next to him.

Harry shuffled closer and laid down. “You don’t have to hold back for my sake, s’all,” Harry said, his mouth going dry. It was a bold thing to say for an omega. 

“Good to know,” Louis said. His thumb was stroking alongside Harry’s cheekbones, and then his jaw. His fingers skimming down his neck and the hollow of Harry’s throat. It didn’t feel like Louis wanted to take things slow right now, it felt like he wanted to torture Harry, drawing things out until Harry begged and soaked the bed with slick. 

Especially with the quirk of Louis’ mouth that followed. The way Louis’ eyes watched Harry’s mouth when he pressed his thumb between Harry’s lips. 

Harry sucked at it, making a show. He fluttered his eyes shut and let his head drop to the pillow. He could sense the way Louis’ attention shifted to his throat, he could hear the sharp intake of breath.

Louis’ nose pressed against Harry’s neck, his tongue lapping at his skin. They might have the room for three more days, but Harry would need less than that to make Louis change his mind. 

He wouldn’t be mated by morning, but the press of Louis’ skin against his was reassuring. His fingers skimmed along Harry’s ribs like a proper tease.

Harry shuddered dramatically, making sure to seem put out. When a smile carved itself on Louis’ face and his eyes sparkled, Harry felt his mission was accomplished. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Louis asked, his voice low and rough. Harry’s eyes fluttered shut as he tried to collect himself.

What could he say? The two of them crammed this close together in Harry’s bed at home, Louis meeting Harry’s parents and sister and-- he could go as far as picturing himself pregnant, already. 

Or he could tease Louis some more, rub his arse against Louis’ groin. He could make the wait as unbearable for Louis as it now was, for him.

“Just thinking about the future,” Harry said, allowing himself to relax.

Louis’ arms tightened around him for a beat before Louis stilled behind him. If Harry hadn’t been paying attention, he might’ve missed the kiss Louis pressed against the back of his shoulder. But Harry felt it, the heat of Louis’ mouth like a blessing. 

They were on the same page.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed! let me know if you'd like a sequel :)


End file.
